Disclaimer: AU to X3! Not making any money from this. Corrinth owns Stifle and Vixen, Blaze is mine, Marvel retain all rights to all other characters, all knowledge of US military comes from watching Stargate SG1!
Above and Beyond: Scene 6"You call that a boat?" Wolverine asked a short while later in a tumbled down wooden boathouse on the docks. He poked the half deflated black rubber dinghy with a foot. It squelched pathetically. There were no seats and nothing to hold on to beyond some tattered lengths of rope around the rim. The outboard motor looked like it ran on hamster-power, as in a child's furry rodent pet running in its cage wheel could outstrip this thing for drive.
"I sin more seaworthy chicken coops than dis," Remy pointed out. He went to one knee and lifted off the cover panel on the motor, before taking a deep breath inwards.
"That sounds bad," Stifle enquired, "What's wrong?"
"Outboard's shot, Mystique," Gambit groused, "They gonna hear us eight miles off, if we even get it in the damn water."
"It was the best I could arrange," Mystique griped right back. "If you hadn't lost the X-Jet…"
"We didn't lose it," Blaze looked ill at even the thought of going out to sea on the flimsy vessel. "It ran out of fuel."
"If Gambit and Wolverine had come to help when I first asked, the jet wouldn't have run out of fuel," Mystique exclaimed righteously. She turned to Gambit, folding her arms across her blue scaly chest, "You've got until sunset to fix it."
"You ain't runnin' dis operation Mystique."
"To the contrary, without me there is no operation," argued the changeling.
"Technically you've told us all we need to know. You're free to leave," Stifle wanted to make the point crystal clear.
"I'm going nowhere, someone has to look after the interests of the Brotherhood of Mutants."
"Fine, just shut up and do as you're told for a change," Logan agreed.
"Alright," Mystique relented, "But if I'm not in charge, who is?"
The X-Men looked at each other with curious expressions. Logan shook his head, scratched the nape of his neck, turned and walked out. Gambit went back to fiddling with the motor. Mystique looked from one man to the other in expectation. Had some secret battle for power just been won, and if so by whom? She couldn't comprehend that exactly the opposite had happened. They weren't going to elect a leader only for Mystique to sink her claws into them. This was teamwork. Instead, thinking that Logan was the more likely winner, Mystique headed after the feral.
Blaze and Stifle watched Mystique go after Logan, and then both turned to see Gambit hard at work. The young women's eyes met, a query in Stifle's hard grey ones answered by an assent of Blaze's head. The redhead turned neatly and walked away. Stifle went to one knee besides Gambit and asked, "What can I do?"
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Kincaid bit into a green apple hard, tasting the instant influx of tangy juice on his tongue. He chewed his bite carefully, diligently, before swallowing. Then he paused, his eyes flickering over the reports in front of him on his desk. The Lieutenant Colonel who had written the report stood silently to attention at the other side of the desk. Around them the great beast of a ship shivered, rattled and creaked. It was so massive they could not feel the movement as the sea urged under it. How long that would last, Kincaid did not know.
The weather was closing in fast, coming from offshore, beyond the ship in the Pacific Ocean. The USS Eliminator, manned by just short of a thousand souls, was the largest prison ship ever constructed. Right now, the wind howled around her gun towers and whipped the flags into an undeniable frenzy. Rain pelted the deck in drops twice their normal size. Waves bashed the sides of the grey monstrosity as though angrily swatting flies. They never should have gotten the Weather Witch out of her induced slumber.
The report detailed those failings. Their scientists had believed that Storm would have need of direct contact with the weather to control it, fresh air for want of a better term. Apparently this was not so. Even waking her in a dark and windowless room had not stopped her. Ororo Munroe had created a miniature tempest in the chamber, blinded by claustrophobia, which had forced all military personnel to leave. They had been forced to dart her like a wild animal to bring her back under control. Right now she was shelved again, deep in unconscious slumber. Kincaid was not a happy man.
"Is the weather outside something to do with this?" he asked his junior.
"We don't know sir," was the response. "There was a weather front brewing, but it wasn't moving this fast or anywhere near this energetic. Perhaps Storm just gave it a push."
"Yet for all this trouble, we got no useful information out of her at all?" Kincaid demanded.
"No sir, nothing," thunder boomed outside, contradicting the soldier.
"Disappointing," Kincaid decided, taking another bite from his apple. He continued to speak with his mouth full. "But not as bad as it could have been. Bad weather or not, the balls are rolling. As soon as this trial of our so-called President is over, the X-Men will be the first to die."
"How long sir?"
"Days, if that," Kincaid was positive. "I've instructed the judge not to dilly dally over the proceedings. No one cares if this trial is fair or not, I just want it done with."
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Dressed again in their black uniforms, gloves and balaclavas with scuba-like masks on their heads ready to pull down to keep the spray from their eyes, the X-Men reported for action. Stifle lashed a small black waterproof rucksack to the deck on her side of the newly rejuvenated dinghy, whilst Logan did the same on his side. Medical supplies, technical equipment, a trench coat and spare playing cards, it was all things they couldn't do without. A wan-looking Blaze spoke to Gambit in a subdued voice. Looking up, Logan gave Mystique a quizzical glace. She was still insisting on coming along for the ride.
"Aren't you gonna be cold?" he asked her, "Not to mention you stand out from the crowd a little." Mystique glowered at him, whilst at the same time she used her powers. She became a goggled and balaclava clad youth, though her black uniform was noticeable for its lack of an X-insignia. Logan shrugged and turned his back on the chameleon.
"Logan, you heaviest so get in the bow," Gambit instructed, the Swamp Rat having the most boating knowledge of them all. "Mystique an' Stifle take port an' starboard. I'm drivin', Blaze can come in the stern wit' me to try an' balance Logan's metal bones out. Anyone gotta problem wit' dat?"
"Yep," griped Blaze, "After I drown I know who's responsible Rem. I'll come back and haunt you so badly…"
"You ain't gonna drown," Gambit told her sincerely. "You ain't even gonna get wet, Chere. Well, not very wet anyway. Get in now, you can be ballast while we launch dis hunk o' junk."
"Ballast, that's all I am to you now," Blaze grumbled, not looking any more appeased. She still did as she was told, and climbed into the dinghy. Gambit and Stifle had lifted the wreck onto a wheeled tow frame earlier in the day. Now it was dark outside, and raining, as the three X-Men and Mystique opened the boathouse doors and pushed the trolley down the jetty to the ocean. Blaze hunkered down in the middle of the dinghy, as if by making herself smaller she would feel more secure.
They walked the tow frame into the black, choppy water until the dinghy started to float. Gambit made Logan get in last to stop him overturning the boat whilst only Blaze was in it. Even with the other four in position, the dinghy still bucked wildly as the adimantium-boned man heaved himself aboard. Gambit didn't give Blaze chance to panic. As soon as Logan was more in than out, Remy pulled the chain rapidly to start the motor. It thrummed sweetly before the propeller caught true, and they were off. Five masked faces stared stoically into the storm, and the blackness of the night.